


Coverage, Breaking

by queenfanfiction



Category: Pundit RPF (US)
Genre: Apocalypse, Gen, prompt!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-30
Updated: 2011-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:38:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenfanfiction/pseuds/queenfanfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the world, of <em>course</em> you'd be watching videos on YouTube.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coverage, Breaking

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ThatYouRefuse's End-of-the-World Comment!Ficathon, prompted by Bessemerprocess for "reporting live from the end of the world.". The 'Blame' virus is taken from the 2009 Japanese film "[Pandemic](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1185654/)." The original post is [here](http://thatyourefuse.dreamwidth.org/206024.html?thread=759752#cmt759752).

_The images are grainy, out-of-focus, like the camera is set to low-res or the owner has an unsteady hand. The sound quality is crap, too, all static and wind noise, as if the person who posted the video didn't have time to do edits and just put the video up untouched._

 _The background is somewhere in Central Park. You can tell it's not in front of a greenscreen, because the trees are swaying in the wind and there's the reddish glow of the setting sun just visible through the leaves. You think you know exactly where this place is, maybe you walked past it every time you go out to walk the neighbors' dog, but now you have no neighbors so you'll never really know for sure._

 _When the voiceover starts, it takes you by surprise. The man speaking sounds breathless, every other word punctuated by heavy gasps of air, and is so close to the camera's microphone that every consonant explodes through the speakers in crackles-and-booms of static._

"Well. Here I am. Finally. This—this is Central Park."

 _The camera slowly pans across the green landscape. The hand holding the camera trembles, then steadies._

"The sun's still shining, everything's quiet, there's a nice cool breeze out here. It's just another Saturday afternoon in Manhattan, right?"

 _The man's laugh is cut short by a spasm of coughing. Once the fit passes, he continues more quietly, almost wistfully._

"If only it were. But it's different, today. The streets are deserted, no cars on the roads, nothing. I met not a single soul on my way here. Even the hotdog street vendors are gone. Central Park's quiet, all right—too quiet."

 _The man pauses, and in the silence that follows you realize that there isn't even birdsong in the background, only the insistent rustling of the wind blowing through the empty trees._

"The first case of the 'Blame' virus was reported in a suburb of Tokyo over a month ago. The US government instituted a strict quarantine on all incoming flights from Japan since that time, but somehow even that failed. The 'Blame' virus is highly contagious, spread both by air and contact, and last Sunday marked the first reported case of the virus in New York state. Since then, the number of reported cases have skyrocketed into the tens of thousands, perhaps even millions. The CDC is investigating a possible cure, but so far they are no closer to finding a solution than before."

 _The camera jerks and twists, the images blurring from the sudden motion before solidifying into a man's face. Oh, you think, it's that guy from CNN, I know who he is—but there's no one else left in the house to share your revelation with, and so you remain silent and ponder the fact that Anderson Cooper was once a handsome man, before his grey hair turned almost pure white and before he became as gaunt and sallow as a walking corpse._

"New York City is a ghost town, now. Those who haven't been infected have left the city, moved inland in the hope of finding sanctuary elsewhere. But they didn't move fast enough—Chicago and Dallas and San Francisco have already reported cases of the 'Blame' virus, as have other countries across Europe and Africa. Local and federal governments are collapsing, the Internet has fallen silent, and everywhere, everywhere—"

 _Anderson starts to cough, and cough, and cough some more. The camera shudders away from Anderson's face as he doubles over; the video shows a patch of bright green grass while the sound of gurgling expectoration fills the speakers._

 _When the camera finally turns back, it pans over a blackish-red clump of flesh that wasn't on the grass before, and now Anderson's lips are stained with fresh blood. He doesn't bother to wipe it away._

"I don't have much time left, but—if anyone's still out there, watching this, if you've somehow survived, please, remember that you're not alone. There are others, God, so many others out here, sick and dying and grieving and suffering, and—by all means, keep yourselves safe, but for God's sake, if there is anything you can do to help—!"

 _More coughing. The camera sways and shakes before it seems to drop; Anderson's legs have given out from underneath him, and now he is sitting on the ground with the twilight cloudless sky behind him and as white as a sheet except for the splashes of red dotting his chin. Nevertheless, when he speaks again, his voice is unflinchingly steady and eerily calm._

"This is Anderson Cooper, reporting live from Central Park. Good night, good luck—and God help us all."

 _The video flickers to black, but not before it catches Anderson closing his eyes and tilting his head skyward as if in prayer._

 _You don't feel like replaying the video again, so instead you scroll down to the Youtube stats. This clip has the dubious distinction of being the last video uploaded online, two days ago, with only a few hundred views total. You ask yourself if those few hundred views represent the few hundred people left uninfected in the world, or if those were all from the same person, watching the same clip over and over for lack of anything else to do. You wonder if Anderson Cooper even lived long enough to upload the video himself, or if he had someone else do it for him as a last request._

 _And then the coughing starts, and none of these questions seem so important anymore._


End file.
